


A Taste of Finer Things

by ArgentGale



Series: ANL, LLC [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: I bet he perks right up when he gets to Tarkin's place, M/M, Sugar!Daddy Tarkin, Wilhuff Tarkin - Freeform, a bit sweet and fluffy, and gives him a taste of the finer things, is Thrawn really tired or is he playing?, takes Thrawn out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 18:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentGale/pseuds/ArgentGale
Summary: Prompt Fill:    ♗:    One falling asleep with their head in the other’s lap.Drabble:  Thrawn x Tarkin set in my Sugar!Daddy Tarkin office AU verse.





	A Taste of Finer Things

**Author's Note:**

> This whole dynamic will be expanded on in future fics. I just couldn't resist using this paring for the prompt. I jumped ahead of myself a little bit. We need to see the whole Orson sends Thrawn a dick pic by accident/Orson then decides he wants to fuck Thrawn/Thrawn basically torments him until Orson goes crying to Tarkin. So..that will be forthcoming. My plate full with other stuff right now (IBB and Camp NaNoWriMo).

Tarkin’s speeder pulled away from the opera house and slid seamlessly into the stream of traffic. 

“So tell me.  Did you enjoy yourself this evening?” 

Tarkin held his breath. Why was it so important to him that Thrawn had enjoyed himself?  He felt the muscles in his shoulders tensing as he waited for the young Chiss’ response.

Tarkin noted how the multicolored lights of the buildings and passing traffic painted Thrawn’s face in mottled patterns of reds and golds before Thrawn turned his attention from the view out the window and faced Tarkin.  His full lips quirked into a soft smile. “It was lovely. Once again, thank you for inviting me.  You really should not have gone through such trouble.”

Tarkin arched an eyebrow as he regarded the Chiss seated next to him.  While he had seen Thrawn in dress attire many times, seeing him in a formal tunic was something else entirely and Tarkin took a moment to fully appreciate how the finely cut black material accentuated the dips and curves of Thrawn’s lithe body.

“It was no trouble at all.  You did me an honor by accompanying me,” Tarkin said softly. “It would have been a pity for the ticket to have gone to waste.”

Thrawn nodded and then returned his attention back to the bustling, colorful scenery.

As they sat in a comfortable silence, Tarkin mused the odd turn of events that led to this evening out. How he had approached Thrawn at _Orson’s_ request to speak on Orson’s behalf trying to convince the Chiss to give Orson a chance.  Get to know him better.   Instead Tarkin had found himself entranced by this earnest, young associate.  Tarkin had always admired Thrawn’s work ethic but their orbits rarely crossed. Thrawn did as was asked of him, thus Tarkin had no real reason to approach him. Their only interactions were an occasional meeting.  But speaking with him that evening after hours, it was as if he were seeing Thrawn in a whole new light.  He remembered how Thrawn had laughed at Tarkin’s suggestion, his brow furrowing as he commented how Orson had held such a strong dislike for anything alien, barely tolerating him only because Tarkin had held Thrawn’s contributions to the company in such a strong regard. 

It seemed Orson could barely stomach being in the same room with Thrawn, let alone going out on an outing alone, one on one.

As their conversation went on, talk of Orson had melted into the background as Tarkin found himself becoming more and more intrigued by the handsome alien.  He was pleased to discover that Thrawn had exceedingly good taste in both wine and the arts and a keen interest in the opera.  Tarkin saw his opening and took it, smoothing suggesting that since Orson was unable to attend an upcoming performance that Thrawn go in his stead.

A bloom flushed on Thrawn’s cheeks as he smiled, voice soft as he replied, “It would be my pleasure, Mr. Tarkin. Of course I hope Mr. Krennic won’t be too angry.”

“Orson is unable to attend due to a business matter and it would be a pity for the tickets to go to waste. He will understand.”  Of _course_ Orson would be livid but Tarkin would cross that bridge at a later time.

Tarkin had pulled out all the stops, having his driver collect Thrawn.  Handing Thrawn a tumbler of brandy with a nod as they had made their way to the theater.  Smiling as Thrawn exclaimed, “This is breathtaking” as they were ushered to Tarkin’s private viewing box.

That evening Tarkin had paid very little attention to the performance, instead taking immense pleasure as he observed Thrawn take in his surroundings, seeming to try to absorb each and every detail, sensation, and sound.

Tarkin could not help but compare the differences between Thrawn and Orson.  Where Thrawn was grateful and appreciative Orson often grew bored and pushed to leave the performances early.

Which led to this:  sitting very close to this enchanting, much younger, and very alien, associate of his wondering what in the kriff he was going to do about it.  While he and Orson had enjoyed an open relationship, it would be a slap in the face for Tarkin to pluck the very fruit Orson had coveted for himself.   

As he was woolgathering, Tarkin felt Thrawn’s gaze. As he met it, Thrawn gave a hesitant smile.

“It was _my_ pleasure.  That performance was amazing and I appreciate you allowing me to experience it.”  Thrawn then yawned, covering his mouth with his hand as he shot Wilhuff a sheepish glance. “Sorry, that brandy went straight to my head. I feel a bit tired…dizzy. It has been an eventful evening.  Please do not think I am bored.”

“I’ll have you home soon.” Tarkin soothed. “In the meantime, perhaps you should lay down?  There is plenty of room and I certainly won’t judge you for it. Indeed you have had a rather exciting evening.  We can’t have you passing out on me, now can we?”

Thrawn smiled and nodded, looking so soft and endearing it was all Tarkin could do to keep his hands to himself.

While Tarkin had intended for Thrawn to lay down across the seat, he certainly wasn’t forward enough to expect the Chiss to lay with his head nestled directly in Tarkin’s lap.  It seemed Thrawn had other ideas and as he settled himself self across the seat, he did just that, placing his head squarely on Tarkin’s lap, yawning wide as he did so.

Tarkin sat in stunned confusion, his hands hovering in uncertainty not sure what he should do with them.  

“Much better.” Thrawn murmured sleepily. “Not nearly as dizzy now.”

Tarkin allowed his hand to fall and traced his fingers through Thrawn’s hair, now a mussed tangle after the long evening. 

Thrawn gave a soft sigh at the gentle touch.

Tarkin prayed his driver wouldn’t decide to flip on the monitor and ask an asinine question. While Rodian was pretty loyal and good at keeping his mouth shut, Tarkin didn’t want to take any chances.

“How are you feeling now?” Tarkin ventured.  He watched the play of light and shadow slide across the Chiss’ resting form. 

“Much better.”

Thrawn’s response was so soft Tarkin had to strain to hear it.

Tarkin jumped as Thrawn then caught Tarkin’s hand in his own, forcing an awkward embrace. Thrawn’s hand was warm, the grip strong and Tarkin gritted his teeth, his heart hammering as Thrawn gently traced his thumb in lazy circles.

Nervously clearing his throat, Tarkin stuttered, “I...I’ll have you home soon.”

Thrawn said nothing, his grip on Tarkin’s hand slackening.

 _He’s fallen dead asleep on me,_ Tarkin mused lips twisting into a smile.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, Thrawn murmured, “I don’t want to go back to my home.  Take me to yours.”

Orson would be furious but to hell with him.

 

 


End file.
